Tempora Enim Habebat
by TheDoctorIsIcecube
Summary: A collection of drabbles set in Hogwarts including all Doctor Who eras. Enjoy! Recent chapter: Frobisher has fun with mistletoe.
1. Chapter 1

Clara sat bent over in the armchair, crackling fire illuminating the look of intense concentration in her eyes as she scanned the heavy book in front of her. The fire light was low, purposely meant to discourage students from studying late into the night. Many students ended up with eye strain by the end of their fifth year.

"I will do this, promise," she said, glancing up at the ghost hovering by her side, patchwork covered arms crossed and one eyebrow quirked upwards. He was her other light source, though the silver light that radiated outwards from the ghost lit barely half of the large common room, leaving most of it in an eerie shadow.

"You know, there REALLY is no need for this, my dear. I have survived for fifty years this way." He said, his words not matching the look of a teen. Clara had yet to ask him how he died, and why on earth he was wearing that coat when it happened.

"Nope. I am getting you your colourful coat back. No objections." The first year student snapped the book shut and stood on tiptoe, placing it on top of the huge pile next to her chair. Professor Song had not wanted her to take so many books out of the library, but Clara had been good all year so far, and she'd returned all her books on time, so the librarian had no sound reason not to let her take out all the colour related charms books.

Clara had been at this thankless task since six o'clock, and it was two in the morning now. Most of the books had been useless, mostly about magical painting, magical artists and charms that were useless or way beyond her level. Holding back a yawn, she snatched up the next book and set to reading. Colin leant over her shoulder, peering in a vaguely interested manner at the text.

"What's that?" he asked, jabbing at a point on the page and tutting as his finger went straight through it. It was like he wasn't used to being a ghost, despite boasting his fifty years of death.

Clara blinked up at him, shaking the sleep from her face.

"That..that's a spell for..for..ughhh.. Something. Changing the colour of objec-" She paused for a yawn. "Changing the colour of objects. Not ghosts. Sorry..."

"You should sleep, my dear. No good will come of anything this late at night." The ghost attempted a friendly pat on the shoulder, instead sinking straight through Clara's arm and making the girl shiver at the cold prickling, a contrast to the warmth on her face from moving as close as possible to the fire for the light.

"No! I WILL find the right spell. I promised!" She put the book down and pulled out her wand, a sudden burst of energy bringing with it a fresh idea.

The thin stick of wood swished through the air, grabbing three books and flicking them to certain pages, dancing in front of her face.

"If I just combine these, maybe, just maybe I can do something with this. Laetus..um.. Laetus Torcus? Laetus Praedictum?" Each attempted spell was accompanied with a hasty flick in the direction of the ghost, who stood looking decidedly unimpressed.

"Clara, you have classes tomorrow. Get some sleep, my girl. Lack of sleep and spell mixing is not good for anyone, let alone eleven year old girls with classes tomorrow."

"No! No, I've got it! Laetus Obnocticus!"

Nothing happened.

"Well, that was anticli- OH!"

A sudden flush of colour blossomed over the ghost's heart, spreading in curling tendrils over his face, his hands, his legs. Dull grey curls turned bright blond in an instant, and then, finally, the coat. Blinding light spread through the previously monotone patchwork, leaving it a clashing, eye-watering rainbow of glorious colour.

Clara grinned, clapping her hands and jumping up and down as she watched the transformation.

"Yes! I TOLD you I could do it! I TOLD YOU!"

Colin looked down at his freshly coloured form, beaming in appreciation.

"My dear Clara, for a first year, you truly are something."


	2. Chapter 2

Ace looked up at the castle, her eyes wider than she thought they'd ever been. It was huge. They'd said a school for magic and she had just imagined a school. Plain old school, maybe a little more interesting than the one she was meant to be going to. But this…this was better than she could have dreamed. This was all her favourite fantasy novels rolled into a real, tangible place that she would be learning magic at. And it was great.

She looked over at some of the other kids in the boat with her. A couple of boys who seemed to have met and become fast friends on the train here, and a girl who looked very nervous, but just as excited as Ace felt. She hadn't stopped blathering on about her grandfather, though she had a funny accent and was speaking very quickly, so Ace hadn't heard much of what she was saying.

There were people talking all around her, and for a moment Ace thought, dreaded, that she wouldn't have any friends here at all. But she dismissed that idea as stupid immediately. After all, she'd been by herself in the train carriage, and other people would have been as well. Ace didn't know that much about the school, but she hadn't been sorted yet, and Professor Baker had said that she'd make friends in her house very quickly. There were plenty of other people who didn't come from magic backgrounds in her year.

"My grandfather teaches Transfiguration, and he says that there's a ghost who stares at people when they're not dressed." The girl sitting on the bench behind her said, and Ace turned around to stare at her.

"Your grandfather teaches here?" She asked, ignoring the actual point of concern in the statement itself. That would hardly be fair on their classmates if the teacher knew the pupils. There had been a few kids at her primary school that had had parents in the teaching staff, and they were obnoxious and spoiled rotten.

"Yes." The girl said. "Doctor Hartnell. But he says I won't get any favours from him. I'm not very good at transfiguration…" She looked upset.

Ace smiled encouragingly at her. "I've barely used magic before, I'm sure you'll be fine."

The girl nodded and smiled back. "My name's Susan. What's yours?"

Ace paused for a moment. There was no way she was going to voluntarily say that her name was Dorothy. "Ace." She said, hoping that witches and wizards could have weird names or whatever and not be questioned.

Susan nodded, so it would probably be okay. She supposed that teachers were less likely to be impressed, though, and insist on the use of her 'real' name. It had always been that way, though there had always been people who thought Ace was a stupid name. Then again, there were always some people who would have said she was stupid regardless.

Getting out of the boat was a bit more of a challenge than getting in, as some prats who were sitting at the front (Patrick and Jamie, as they introduced themselves after they were all on the shore) decided that nudging each other until they almost all fell in was a good idea. Thankfully, they all stayed dry, but Ace pledged that she'd remember what happened and once it was warm she would push both of them into the lake.

The inside of the castle was even more intimidating than the outside. Looming darkness was replaced by high ceilings and a huge entrance hall that made Ace feel so small. And she wasn't even short. The room they were lead to to wait to go into the hall was small, and everyone was talking again, Ace ending up next to Susan again. Susan was glaring daggers at Jamie and Patrick.

Ace grinned. "We'll get them." She said.

Susan looked up and smiled. "If you like." She nodded towards the door Professor Gorlefstew had disappeared through. "Which house do you think you'll be in?"

Ace shrugged. "I didn't really think about it. At muggle schools, you don't get to choose which house you're in, and none are really any better than the others."

Susan smiled. "I'd like to be in Gryffindor, that's the house both my parents were in, but grandfather was in Slytherin. But I don't think I'm brave enough to be in either of those…"

Ace nodded. She had thought about it a lot, but she didn't want to seem as bothered as she was. She was terrified that she didn't go in any of those houses, that they'd just kick her out or something, because she wasn't good enough for any house at all. She wasn't smart or cunning or loyal or even brave, she was just really stupid. She didn't even know why she was at this school, she had hardly ever done any of this 'magic', if ever, if she could remember.

When she was really little, things used to explode around her a lot when she got angry, but that stopped quite a while ago. Nothing since then, and she was pleased about it until she found out that she was a witch, and the fact that she hadn't been doing magic anymore…well, she wished that things had just kept exploding. It certainly would have made her feel more comfortable about standing here.

Professor Gorlefstew came back pretty quickly, and Ace was one of the closest to the door, so she was the first to enter the Great Hall. She knew that above her the ceiling would show the sky outside, but she didn't stop to look up, she would look stupid. Once she got to the end of the hall (why did they start at the other end? It seemed a little like a walk of shame to her), she allowed herself to glance upwards.

It was just as beautiful as everything else she'd experienced of the magical world so far, among the chaotic order of Diagon Alley and the chaos that was not ordered at all at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. This was far more peaceful, but just as beautiful. The feeling of seeing the early September night sky whilst staying completely warm was something she still couldn't quite fathom.

There were quite a few people who were sorted before her, including Susan (Foreman, it turned out), who went to Hufflepuff. It suited her, she thought. She'd be better off there than with the Slytherins, who couldn't possibly be as bad as they looked, but they still looked decidedly scary. Even to Ace.

The boy before her (McCoy, Sylvester) went to Slytherin. He was really short, and that seemed to be his only distinguishing feature, other than his very odd looking face.

And then it was her turn. She sat on the stool, and felt the eyes of the whole school on her. That was a lot of teenagers who could laugh when she messed up and was told she wasn't actually a witch.

'Hello there.' She didn't jump, she'd seen almost everyone else jump when they heard what was probably the voice of the hat, so she was prepared. 'Well you're interesting, but don't give up on your magic. You'll find it's there. You just have control. Control is more of a Slytherin thing, if I may say. But you will never be a Slytherin on any day of the week. You could be a Hufflepuff, and learning in the Ravenclaw way isn't your style. But you're a very brave person, as well as being loyal. You'll give your loyalty to anyone, but only when pushed to in the right situation. So, for you, it's

"Gryffindor!"'


	3. Chapter 3

David was ridiculously, unbelievably, stupidly bored. Twenty whole minutes he'd been waiting for his potion to change to the same shade of rosy pink as Professor Chesterton's was. And yet it was still a muddy brown, sending a rather unpleasant smell wafting through the Potions classroom, and he was running out of time to finish. His Potions partner had left him to watch the potion whilst she left to 'help someone else with theirs'.

As usual, his friend (would be boyfriend, if he could get the courage to admit he liked him) John was having just as much trouble. The shorter boy's blond hair was a little charred at the edges, thanks to an unfortunate accident with some dragon scales they'd been throwing around in the lesson two days ago. They'd both been given detention assisting Madame Smythe in the Hospital Wing, but they'd been warned not to try anything again.

David ripped a scrap of paper from the corner of his notebook and scribbled on it, drawing his wand and whispering a quick spell before drawing on it a few more times and scrunching up the message and throwing it at John. It bounced off the other boy's head and hit the ground before he ducked down to pick it up, shooting a playful glare at David.

John stifled a giggle at the rough sketch, animated into a loop by David's spell. It showed Professor Chesterton dropping something into a cauldron and a small explosion going off, leaving the man's face soot-blackened. The caption read 'Professor Chidlington and the Failed Potion'.

"You know it's Chesterton, not Chidlington, mate." John tossed the paper back, snorting with laughter as it landed in David's still-muddy potion.

"What's going on over there, boys?" The professor looked up from his own work and shook his head disapprovingly. "Stop messing around! You're meant to be smart young boys, I'm sure you don't want another detention this week."

"Sorry, professor..." The whole class laughed as both boys turned hastily back to their cauldrons until he looked away again. "Well, not SORRY, exactly," David muttered under his breath and grinned widely. "Aw, I have to get that paper out now..." He said to himself, staring at the murky potion. It looked lighter than before, was that good or really bad?

The boy rummaged around the desk for a minute, looking for something to get the paper out and in the process knocking over several vials of powders and small, expensive looking ingredients that he was meant to put in later. Two little green spheres rolled around a bit and then clinked against each other, creating a tiny white spark. Under normal circumstances, this would have been fine, but as it just so happened, one of the powders David had spilt was incredibly flammable...he panicked for a second, looking around in desperation before deciding to step back and hope his notes didn't get burnt.

There was a FWOOSH, and then erupted a tower of flickering purple flame as high as the vaulted stone ceiling, emitting a foul blue smoke that curled in a cloud across the top of the room. Several students screamed, one girl started crying, and it took poor Professor Chesterton three minutes and a burst of red sparks from his wand to restore order.

"EVERYBODY OUT, PLEASE STAY CALM. DAVID, JOHN. YOU HAVE DETENTION AFTER SCHOOL TODAY." he yelled across the room of shocked eleven year olds.

David just looked at John and grinned madly.

That evening, the two Ravenclaw boys ambled down to the Potions lab, doing their best to look contrite for the disgruntled professor.

"Do you boys have ANY idea how foolish that was?! You NEVER mess with potion ingredients, you could have killed us all! You are very lucky no one was hurt. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?" The professor stood with arms folded in front of the heavy dungeon door.

"I'm sorry, Professor Chilton...- um, I mean Cheddarton..." David gave up and pulled his best injured puppy dog look at the distinctly unimpressed man.

"It's Professor Chesterton, my boy. I don't understand why so many people have such trouble with my name. Both of you, in here. I need you to sit and watch these potions for an hour and a half. Stir clockwise every ten minutes. No talking, or I'll make it two hours." He strode inside the dungeon and sat down to mark some work.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Both boys gave each other an exasperated look at the thought of their punishment and followed the professor inside, sitting down on the wooden benches and peering into two large cauldrons of luminous green potion, bubbling loudly.

"What's this, professor?" John asked, poking at it with a stirring spoon.

"Skele-gro, for the hospital wing. And don't do that! Leave it alone, except to stir it. And shush."

John plopped back down on the bench next to his friend and shot him a pained look, mouthing 'we've got an hour and a half of THIS...' to him.

David ran a hand through his messy hair and rested one elbow on the desk, nodding wearily and failing to hold back a yawn.

Forty minutes later, and nothing had yet gone wrong. Both boys were sitting with their heads on the bench, trying desperately to stay awake. Twice now John had had to poke David to ensure he didn't drift off.

"Boys, stir again now."

The professor's voice woke the boys up sufficiently to stand up and grab the stirring spoons and dip them into the bright red potion-

Oh.

David looked at his cauldron, then over to John's. The other boy's was still luminous green, bubbling merrily. His, on the other hand. His was red, and steaming frantically, curls of white vapour pouring off the top.

"Professor! Help..."

Professor Chesterton ran over, took one look at David's potion and groaned.

"I said stir it CLOCKWISE, boy!" He ran off to a storage cupboard, returning with a flask of grey pebbles. "This should fix it... I am never allowing you boys near important potions again..."

The mixture ceased its steaming as the professor poured in a stream of tiny rocks.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought for a minute it was going to-"

He never did finish that sentence, as a huge puff of black smoke flew right into his face, leaving him coughing and startled. As the smoke cleared, the Ravenclaw boys stared at each other, in slightly awed silence.

Their teacher stood in front of a failed potion, hair on end and face dark with smoky residue, a perfect picture of the roughly drawn cartoon that had started all this mess.

Even the threat of an extra night's detention couldn't quell the uproarious laughter that burst out from both of the boys.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **My (Sam) chapter this time! We'll be seeing a lot of Eight in the future.

Fitz scoured the corridors for somewhere to sit. He should have gotten here earlier, found somewhere to sit before the train was moving. He should have listened to his mother, really. This was annoying. He'd been declined entry to two carriages already, and he was running out of options.

Finally, near the end of the train, where he really should have started, there was a carriage with only one other person who looked like they were male sitting, reading a book. He knocked on the window and the person jumped, looking up to reveal a very pretty but male face. If he'd been a bigot muggle he would have called the boy gay and laughed, running off. But because he was nice and his legs hurt, he opened the door to the carriage and dragged his trunk in behind him.

"Hello." He said, smiling widely at the stranger.

"Hello." The stranger greeted back. "I'm Paul. Or at least I'm told I am. I don't know what I prefer."

Fitz didn't know what to say, really. This boy was very odd, but he didn't seem to mind Fitz sitting with him, which was the important thing for now.

Paul or whatever frowned anxiously. "Did I say something?"

There was a thing called autistic wasn't there? Paul must just be like that or something. "No, sorry. I'm Fitz."

Paul smiled widely. "Nice to meet you, Fitz."

-;-;-;-;-;-

They sat together for the whole journey, and sat through starving because Fitz hadn't brought lunch and Paul never said anything about it at all, and neither had money easily accessible to buy sweets, both staring longingly at the beaming witch and her cheery calls of 'Anything from the trolley?' as she passed by.

Fitz had gone at a point near the end to change clothes, and had come back to find Paul in his robes. He looked a little less lost in these. Fitz felt more comfortable too, but that was more to do with changing clothes after wearing them sitting down for a few hours.

When the train pulled to a stop, Fitz was buzzing with excitement. He'd been waiting for this day ever since he could understand that he was a wizard. His dad had always told him about Hogwarts, and why it was hard to fit in at school because weird things happened sometimes that muggles would never be able to explain. Fitz had not been popular at school, especially after he had mysteriously caused a popular boy's drink to explode when he was eight.

His mother had made him attend muggle school, even though he could have gone to a wizarding school. She said it was because she wanted him to have friends in the area, and there weren't any wizarding schools near here. That's why they'd picked the area, he thinks, because it was so quiet, almost no magic at all.

But now he was here, at a magic school to learn all kinds of magic and make friends and do things that he'd never been allowed to do at home 'in case the neighbours saw'.

He got off with Paul at his side. He was almost eager to ditch the odd boy, but Paul stuck very close to his side, sometimes behind, but never far away. Paul followed him all the way to the boats, and then, as they got in, Paul hesitated at the edge.

"Paul?" Fitz said quietly, glancing around. He didn't want people to stare at either of them.

Paul nodded, but didn't move. Fitz held out a hand to him. "You won't fall." He said. "Come on."

Paul smiled nervously and took his hand, climbing tentatively into the boat. Fitz could see the panic as the tiny vessel shook slightly, and Paul practically collapsed into his seat on the bench next to Fitz, almost leaning on him. People were staring now, but Paul was shaking, and he didn't look scared anymore, but Fitz would bet his robes that he was terrified. So he let Paul lean on him, because wasn't going to let Paul be humiliated and scared on their first day.

Hogwarts was beautiful, all soft floating lights and grand stone towers. Paul sat up and stared at it, mesmerised. Most people were doing that, Fitz included. He'd never actually SEEN it. He'd seen pictures, but not seen it in real life. It was huge, bigger than he had ever imagined, and Fitz couldn't wait to explore it all.

When they were left to wait to go into the hall, Fitz started to get nervous. Everyone seemed to be nervous, actually. Except Paul, who was just looking around and not paying much attention to people. He was still shadowing Fitz, though.

When Professor Gorlefstew took them through to the Main Hall, Fitz knew to look up and stare, because he knew that there would be something to stare at. He nudged Paul, who had been looking fixedly ahead, and he heard the boy let out a soft 'oh!' and continue staring at the ceiling as they walked towards the hat.

The sorting was interesting enough, but Fitz's nerves kept building until it felt like there was a pit of acid in his stomach.

"Kreiner, Fitz!" Professor Gorlefstew called, and he stepped forward to sit on the stool. Paul smiled faintly at him from the crowd as the hat called "Gryffindor!" And the far end of the hall erupted into cheers, and he was happy with the house he was in, but somehow he knew that Paul would not be in it, and there weren't many people who would stand 'odd' people.

But he concentrated on the present, sitting down with a happy house who thought he seemed a great dude, and everyone was smiling at him.

McGann, Paul was sorted into Ravenclaw, and boy did they not look happy to have the little shaking pretty boy who couldn't seem to speak to them.


	5. Chapter 5

"KOSCHEI! HURRY UP, WE'LL BE LATE!" A bellow echoed up the grand staircase of the Oakdown family home, and a small, scruffy boy emerged from one of the heavy wooden doors, looking a little out of place for his appearance in a smart black shirt and red tie.

"Sorry..." He made his way down the stairs, resisting the temptation to slide down the banister whilst his mother was watching. Koschei Oakdown was in a pretty good mood, considering the fancy party his family had been invited to. Of course, the smart clothes were a downside, but he could put up with smart clothes if it meant an excuse to stay as far away from his family as he could for a night AND eat fancy food.

Upon his arrival downstairs, his mother hustled up, black and red dress rustling and sparkling blindingly in the brightly-lit hallway.

"Koschei, dear, present yourself better! The Hartnells are a respected wizarding family, I can't have my youngest son looking like a street urchin! You're bad enough, what with the..." She tailed off and flapped a hand in his general direction.

Koschei's good mood dipped a little. He was sick of the constant put-downs and brush-offs from EVERYONE. Even his own parents. So what, he was a Squib? Who cared? Why did it even MATTER? He was still a person. He didn't need to be reminded how bad it was, how he was cursed and couldn't do anything, how he didn't deserve to interact with little kids because he got mad at their blatant staring. The little whispers behind his back, the 'I'm so SORRY!' to his parents, not to him, he wasn't the one suffering, it was his parents who couldn't have another precious baby going to Hogwarts because he WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH.

Of course, he said none of this, instead standing up a little straighter and shooting a cold look at his assorted family members before stalking out into the cold night where a disgustingly fancy black and red car awaited.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Adult parties, Koschei had decided, were no fun at all. He'd been to many before, but this one 'took the biscuit', so to speak. His parents and older siblings had wandered off to mingle with the Hartnells, although it was clear which person belonged to which family from the colour divide. Every Oakdown in black and red, every Hartnell in gold and green. Except one old man, a Hogwarts professor, who dressed solely in black. Why he'd wear work robes at a fancy non-work event (which had something to do with politics, he was sure), Koschei had no idea. He must get enough of wearing them year round anyway.

Koschei had perched in a corner, avoiding the various attractions of the night, such as magical Exploding Snap, magical firework conjuring, and magical dueling. So much magic. So unfair.

Various Hartnell teenagers had approached him, questioning the lack of wand and involvement in the party, only to walk away disgusted as soon as the S-word was out of his mouth.

Squib.

Koschei hated the term.

A dirty mark stamped on his mind, his body, his being. Squib. Useless. May as well be a Muggle, for what he was worth. He was lower than a Muggle in ministry eyes. May as well be dead, his parents wouldn't care. They had other children, magical children who could do wonderful things. Wonderful things that Koschei couldn't do, would never be able to do.

He didn't even notice he'd clenched his fist hard enough to turn the knuckles white until someone tapped his shoulder.

He jumped violently and the offender backed off a little.

"Sorry! You... Are you okay?" At second glance, the offender was a boy of about Koschei's age, blonde and even scruffier than Koschei himself, dressed in a too-large green shirt and gold bow tie. You'd think that with all this money the guy would get clothes that fit, but apparently not. "Hey. I'm Theta. Hartnell, but you probably guessed that." Theta grinned, brown eyes sparkling, and gestured to his colourful attire. "Gold and green, kind of traditional. Don't know why, I hate it. But my mum says I have to dress to impress you Oakdowns. Your family is REALLY stuck up by the way... I should stop talking now. Sorry."

Koschei couldn't help but grin back. This boy's good humour was infectious.

"Name's Koschei. Hi. And yeah, my family's a load of stuck up idiots. You think they're bad now, you should try living with them!" He grinned again, sticking out a hand politely, which Theta shook enthusiastically.

There was a short pause in conversation, then Theta piped up again, "You going to Hogwarts this year?"

Ah. The dreaded school question. The one that made them turn away.

"...No. I-I'm a Squib, you see... Not allowed in..." He fully expected his newfound friend to walk off in disgust like the rest of them had. To his surprise, something rather different happened.

Theta grinned his biggest grin so far, even jumping on the spot.

"Me too! I'm a Squib! I never got why we're not allowed to Hogwarts, it's SO not fair. But now I've met you, and oh, this is so cool! You're the first Squib my age I've ever met, we're going to be such great friends!"

Koschei returned the grin, laughing at the boy's sheer enthusiasm.

"I'm sure we are, Theta." He sprang up, grabbed the other boy's arm and the two of them ran off into the crowd of people, happy and relieved that they'd both finally found someone like themselves and fully intending to enjoy this night thoroughly.


	6. Chapter 6

Christopher sighed as the bookcase rammed his side and all the books fell out of his hands as one, before they scattered across the floor and moved over to the shelf. He didn't bother to try and pick them up, the bookcase was protective of the damn books. Merlin, why were the books in his NEWT classes sentient or however they functioned?

Or the books could at least listen to him, like the library, then he wouldn't mind too much. These were the books he (his mother, really, but they were for him) had bought especially for school, and he couldn't get to them. He'd tried telling Doctor Hartnell that he couldn't really do anything in his lessons without those books cooperating, but he'd simply been ignored, and one teacher had told him to just "do whatever you do to the library". It didn't work that way. The library just…didn't ignore him. Or obstruct him. It let him do his work and get his books. He wasn't the only one who could do it. There was Professor Baker and Doctor Hartnell, most notably. And that little Lethe weirdo from Ravenclaw.

"Don't bother, Christopher." One of his roommates said with the affected tone of someone who'd already done all of their homework, before there was the sharp bang of a set of Exploding Snap. Why these two weren't swamped by homework he couldn't work out, what with all the loud games they played when he was working (which often ended in heated kissing) and the endless kissing they did whilst he was trying to sleep. They were so loud. Every night. He'd taken to soundproofing his bed.

"You have an excuse." The other said with an equally lazy, drawling tone. "The professors can't doubt that your books hate you."

"I still need them back, Derek." Christopher continued, going over to where the pair were sat. "You may not know what money means, but I can tell you those books are expensive."

"Get that weirdo in Ravenclaw to do it." This time it was Richard, his lip curled with contempt. "He's got more magic than all of Gryffindor put together."

"That will have to be last resort." Christopher decided. The weirdo in question, Lethe, liked him for some reason, but that didn't mean he liked the kid. He was weird. "I'd go to Baker before that creepy thing."

"Join in then." Derek said. "You can worry later."

Christopher sighed and pulled a chair up to the table. The pack of cards was resting on a sheet of parchment that was slightly singed.

The game never worked well on wood for some reason, probably lack of destructive power. The tables at Hogwarts had long since been charmed to be explosion resistant.  
>Richard lifted his wand, moving one card from the deck and then shuffling before separating the pile into three sections in a single fluid motion. Derek took his pile and took out his own wand, Christopher following suit.<p>

This version of the game was not a lot like the muggle version, and it was far less easy to cheat.  
>With a flick of his wand, Richard started the game.<p>

It was fast pace, no different from the other times the trio had played the game together. Richard won the first set of cards, then Christopher. So far nothing had exploded. When he took his pile of cards, he looked at the slightly singed parchment. It had ink on it.

"What's on the parchment?" Christopher asked.

"It's Richard's homework." Derek said calmly, waving his wand to deal a card as he spoke, unbothered by the singed state of his boyfriend's homework.

Richard only blinked. "It would be a shame if your homework ended up in the lake, wouldn't it, dearest?"

"It would be, love." Derek shot back. "Such a shame." He smirked.  
>Christopher placed his next card. Richard. Derek. Christopher. Richard.<br>BANG.

Derek had hit the side of his chair. Richard winced.  
>Derek placed his card. Then Christopher.<br>The cards matched. Christopher scattered sparks with his wand.

"...Snap." He said quietly. Derek and Richard were too busy staring at each other with a mix of hatred and intense passion to pay any attention to their cards.

Christopher looked at them and shrugged. He'd go and find someone his bookshelf didn't viciously dislike while they had hate sex or whatever they were planning.


	7. Chapter 7

"So, I was thinking we could do this essay on... Paul? Hey!" Fitz tapped his friend's arm to get their attention. Their. That pronoun still sounded a little weird in Fitz's head, but he would respect his friend's wishes, despite the fact he'd never even considered that not having a gender was a thing. That's what they had asked of him, and he was going to listen and follow what Paul said. It was only fair. Now, however, he just wished that Paul would pay a little more attention to the extremely important homework that the two of them were supposed to be doing. They were meant to be writing an essay outline on the effects of various laws on the practise of Transfiguration, and Fitz wanted to do theirs on Goblins.

Paul turned their head away from a book that was drifting past, pages fluttering like inky wings, and blinked at Fitz. "Hm?"

His friend's forgetful nature was trying at times, but Fitz would not abandon Paul in this project. No one else would do it with them.

"Homework, we're supposed to be writing an essay. Doctor Hartnell wants it in by tomorrow, Paul." He said gently. Paul really didn't like anyone raising their voice at all. Fitz hasn't asked about their home life, but Paul had a lot of quirks that point to a less than happy one.

Paul flinched as if they'd been stung and drew their arms in close. They'd been doing that a lot recently, Fitz had noticed. Although he had yet to figure out why.

"Hey, what's up? Something I said?" He put out a hand to squeeze the other student's shoulder, aware that touch was a source of comfort to them.

Paul just pulled their arms in even tighter and returned their attention to the fluttering books that swirled around the library ceiling.

"Will you talk to me, please..." Fitz's pleading tone seemed to strike something within the other student, and they turned to face him again.

"Paul." They spat the word with a hateful tone that Fitz had never expected to hear out of the mouth of his normally gentle and docile friend. He'd never heard them say something in such a spiteful manner. They didn't even get mad when they were beaten up, for Merlin's sake!

"Yeah, that's your name. What's wrong with your name? Is it- Ohh... Is this a pronoun-y thing? You don't like your name?"

Paul's eyes lit up and they nodded, grinning. "I-" They stopped for a moment. "Can you help me...find a new name?"

"Sure. I mean, why not?" Fitz shut the book of ancient goblin laws that he had been boredly flipping through and turned his full attention to his friend. "Where are we going to find you a name, mate?"

Paul pointed a finger shyly at the ceiling, and one slim book slowly floated down, feather-like, to land on the table between them. The cover read 'Ancient Wizarding Names'.

"You have GOT to teach me how you do that."

-...-...-...-...-

Three hours later, and Fitz was exhausted. It was one in the morning, they were breaking curfew, surrounded with bookcases that probably wouldn't move unless the Minister for Magic herself ordered them to, and they were still no closer to finding Paul a new name. Fitz's voice was hoarse from reading every single name (excluding names that were obviously gendered because he knew those would be refused immediately) in the book off one by one, in alphabetical order. They were only on 'L' and he had been through what was probably thousands of names, each one met with a small shake of Paul's head.

"Latona." Nope. "Letarni." Nope. "Letesh." Nope. "Lethe." Nope- Wait. There had been a nod that time, definitely. "Lethe? You like Lethe?"

Paul- Lethe- nodded their head. "Lethe. I-It's good."

"Okay then, Lethe. New name, sorted!" Fitz reached over and pulled his friend into a quick hug, seeing the other student's small smile that somehow held all the happiness in the world. Fitz loved that smile.

Doctor Hartnell was not pleased the next day when they both walked into class brimming with apologies and excuses (and receiving a detention), but Lethe was happy and if Lethe was happy, so was Fitz.


	8. Chapter 8

Why? Why did things work this way? He (no no, that doesn't work) just couldn't understand. Was there something he (have to work this out, what's going on) was missing, that she (no that's not right either what's going on) had forgotten, maybe, when all that stuff happened and he (wrong) forgot everything that had ever happened to her (still no), even his (ugh) own name (which she (no!) doesn't like either), everything, and it feels like everything is confusing and he (that one's just uncomfortable) doesn't know if it's to do with memory or if they just don't understand anyway, and never would.

They. It just came to them, like that, and it fit. They. They. It makes sense now and they can breathe again, finally, without agonising over every thought and stray slip.

Sleeping in a room with others was difficult. They had been alone in the room the first time they got there, but not long, and it wasn't nice, no longer being alone in such an unfamiliar place. One scary place after another, nothing was easy. New person after new person, always there, always close, always judging them.

They weren't very nice either. They stared at them a lot all the time, and they said things in front of them and probably when they weren't there too. It's like they thought that they didn't exist. Maybe they didn't in the eyes of the world. Maybe they were just a passing shadow to be mocked.

-;-;-;-

"Hey, look at the weirdo!"  
>"What's he doing?" They. What are they doing. They're sitting down and doing homework, but it's hard to concentrate so they have to put it down a lot to do something stimulating.<p>

-;-;-;-

"Who's that?" An older student, looking at them weirdly in the corridor as they glance around every few seconds, making sure that they aren't being surrounded.

"I don't know. Do you think he's okay?" They. Do you think they're okay. No. They aren't. They're scared and alone and at the same time not alone and it's terrifying. People keep hurting them and shouting at them.

"That's Paul." The hushed voice they recognised as the female prefect in Ravenclaw for fifth year. "Don't know what's wrong with him, but he's sweet enough. Very weird, hardly speaks. I don't think his classmates like him." Him. They. THEY. There is something wrong with them, everything feels wrong. They don't speak much because they can't think of the words. They think that they may have forgotten the words to say, the response to show.

-;-;-;-

They don't know why but they can't use the bathrooms. It's silly and they don't know why, but they just can't use them. It feels like the little figures on the doors are guarding against people like them, people who don't want to wear the dress or be the trousers. They didn't like the clothing that muggles wore. It felt like they were meant to be fitting into two little boxes and they'd dropped in the middle and got stuck.

The single bathroom by the dormitory was small and had no light or heating. It was miserable. But they had no alternative. They had to come here before breakfast, during lunch, and after school. It was difficult to find time so they had to cut down how much they drank. Then they could go before and after lessons every day, and that was it and that was fine. They had to ignore the bladder cramps on occasion, but they couldn't use the other toilets. They just couldn't. They tried, once or twice, and they almost cried in the middle of the school day when they had to go to lessons, and they didn't know why.

-;-;-;-

"Are you doing well, Paul?" The nurse was from St Mungo's. She'd been there when they had been there before they came to Hogwarts. She had probably been there when they had been so horribly confused. They were still confused and nothing was better.

No. They were not doing well. At all. They were told they would have friends, and they'd be really good in lessons because of all that magic, they'd be happier than they had been (they didn't know how they'd been before, but they were told it was bad), and that Hogwarts would be the best thing to ever happen to them (which really wasn't difficult considering how much memory they had of what had been).

They didn't have friends, they had people who stared at them, people who laughed and talked about them when they were there. Fitz, who had seemed so nice on the train, seemed to have abandoned them. There were people who had even once kicked them in the stomach and run off, laughing. They're pretty sure that they used magic to heal themselves, because that was two days ago and it hadn't hurt since they went to bed the night after it happened.

They didn't do well in lessons because it was hard to concentrate at anything. It was so easy to get distracted. And the magic hardly made a difference at all. Everything was easy, especially in Charms, the teacher was nice, but their arms could never make the right motions unless they practised for ages and ages, and they couldn't concentrate on practise for long.

They weren't happy. Well, they were sort of happy, sometimes, but not all of the time, and when they were sort of happy, someone would interrupt them and they wouldn't be happy anymore.

Hogwarts was the best thing that had happened to them, but that didn't mean they were doing well here. Only that it was better than a hospital.

"...I'm doing really well, thank you."


	9. Chapter 9

A piercing yell echoed through the corridors of Hogwarts, followed by shouts and an offended American accented voice claiming innocence of all crimes of which the owner was being accused.

The voice belonged to Captain Jack Harkness, resident ghost of Slytherin house.

The yell belonged a disgruntled seventh-year boy, who had discovered the ghost hovering in the shower room.

This was the fourth time this week.

[*][*][*][*][*][*][*][*]

Clara Oswald was not having the best of days. Her Advanced Charms textbook had flown off and was now hovering around the ceiling, her dorm mate Rose could do nothing but giggle about it (Rose was fond of giggling and not understanding why Clara did extra Charms study), and now Colin was complaining to her about the misdemeanours of one of his fellow ghosts.

"...and just like that, he floats right into the showers! Completely out of order, students are complaining, he started GIGGLING, apparently..."

"What? Sorry, I'm kinda busy here. Floating textbook issues." Clara was balancing precariously on a stack of books, attempting to net the rogue one with hastily shouted spells. "Accio textbook!" The Charms book merely dived out of the spell's range and drifted to the other side of the room, where it hovered, looking as smug as it was possible for a book to look. Which was rather smug, considering.

"Oh for goodness sake, girl, this matter is far more pressing than your homework..." Colin floated in front of her, glowingly coloured coat flaring indignantly. "A ghost cannot be allowed to do this! I have consulted Martha and Donna and they agree. You, my girl, are the only one in this school with the right talents for the job."

"Colin... BUSY!" Clara jumped off the stack of books and ran up to the taunting textbook. "You get down here or I will call the librarian!" The book froze in it's smug fluttering at these words, and drifted contritely onto Clara's bed, not before flapping a sulky page in her face on its way down. "THANK you! Now, what was this about a ghost, Colin?"

"Come on, guys, I wasn't doing any real harm... Ya don't need to get a firstie in to 'sort me out'..." Jack floated in the firm grip of Martha and Donna, the house ghosts of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively. They had cornered him spying on seventh years for a fifth time, and they had decided that, enough was enough. No more apologies.

Colin drifted in, accompanied by Clara carrying both her wand and a very angry look.

"Clara! You came!" Martha greeted the first-year warmly and gestured to the protesting Captain. "Colin said you could help?"

"I have an idea, yeah..." She aimed her wand at Jack, who looked slightly alarmed and started complaining at the ghosts again.

"Really, guys? You're gonna let Little Miss Firstie point THAT thing at me?" He struggled against the ghosts' grip again, earning him a sharp glare from Donna.

Clara thought for a second, preparing a spell in her mind. "Laetus Viridis Musica!" A stream of green sparks flickered over the Captain's form, skipping over his ghostly skin and sinking into him. Martha and Donna let go of him after a quick glance to Clara.

"What the hell did that do?" Jack glanced over his body, checking to make sure everything was in order.

"You'll see!" Clara grinned and strode off back down the corridor, determined to make the most of that Charms textbook she'd managed to subjugate.

#•#•#•#•#•#•#•#•#

Two days later, Jack hadn't bothered the seventh years and he was getting rather bored. Playing pranks on teachers with the resident poltergeist, Frobisher, just wasn't cutting it anymore. He decided that tonight, he would sneak down to the showers again, regardless of the incident with Clara. What would a first year know about this kind if advanced magic, anyway. Sure, she'd managed to turn Colin's coat back to its original, horrifically blinding colour, but that was different.

He floated quickly down the corridor, ducking into the wall as a group of chattering fourth-years rounded the corner.

It was when he got to the shower door that things got bad. A green glow lit his entire body, bright and clear, and a song started playing, apparently emanating from his very skin. It was...

Oh no.

She hadn't.

The Monster Mash.

Captain Jack Harkness had no choice but to stand and meet his excruciatingly embarrassing fate as two seventh year boys (why were they even in the showers together damnit) stuck their heads out of the door and caught sight of him, glowing brighter than a Christmas tree and blaring corny Halloween songs loud enough to wake the dead.

Funnily enough, he didn't go near the showers again.


	10. Chapter 10

Peter did not like Charms. Too much waving of wands and complicated flapping. He was no good at it. The only good thing he could think of on the spot about this class was his partner, Anthony, who he had the world's biggest crush on. Probably. It was meant to be a secret, but everyone knew about this crush, except Anthony. He hoped. If Anthony knew, it would be the end of everything.

Of course, Anthony knew.

In fact, he'd known for quite some time, and had an equally large crush on his friend. He just happened to be far better at hiding it, and using it to flirt and see that adorable blush on his friend's face. He was waiting for a suitably surprising time to tell Peter all of this, so he could exploit the embarrassment it would be sure to cause Peter.

The lesson was dragging horribly. Anthony could only twirl his wand between slender fingers and wait until the practical section, bored out of his mind.

Unless...

He nudged the boy sitting in front of him with his foot.  
>"Turlough! You're good at Charms."<p>

"Yes..." The redheaded boy nodded cautiously.

"Enchant Peter's inkwell to stain everything... I have an idea..." He passed the inkwell down, Peter not even noticing, so entranced was he with what appeared to be a small fly buzzing around the classroom ceiling. Peter, it seemed, was more bored than he was, and far less resourceful.

Turlough whispered a few words into the inkwell and passed it back up, muttering,  
>"You better not explode anything. Last time you had an idea you blew up the entire dorm's homework..."<p>

"Oh, don't worry..." Anthony carefully replaced the inkwell before aiming his wand at the fly that was proving to be a great distraction to Peter and releasing a single white spark to zap it into a crisp. It was a wonder that Professor Pink hadn't noticed yet, but he didn't exactly pay much attention to him and Peter. He'd given up on making them concentrate, Anthony thought.

Peter looked over at him with an annoyed glance.  
>"What was that for? I was... Concentrating..." He stopped as he realised the hypocrisy of his words.<p>

"Don't you worry..." He smirked at Peter, producing a small flush of colour. Lovely. "There's something I have to tell you." He leaned in close to his friend's face.

Peter did the same, noticeably placing one hand right next to the enchanted inkwell. This was just wonderful. Perfect, even.

Anthony leaned further, so his mouth was right next to Peter's ear.  
>"I know about your crush on me... In fact, it's rather endearing. Hogsmeade, next weekend?"<p>

Peter's reaction was immediate and hilarious. He turned approximately the colour of a ripe tomato and pulled his hand away, flicking the inkwell into the air and sending it splattering all over his robes and hair. It clattered to the floor but no one seemed to notice.

"W-what?! You-are you-what!" He was obviously trying to be quiet, and he was doing well, but Turlough had turned around, at least.

"Asking you on a date? Yes."

"I-I-oh. I-yes. Yes. Yes. Okay. Of course. I- Yes." He settled down a little.

"We got there eventually..."

Professor Pink chose that moment to look over at the two, a concerned frown on his face when he realised what was going on.  
>"What's going on over there, boys? Mister Davison, why are you covered in ink?! Go to the bathrooms, clean yourself up."<p>

Peter nodded, still slightly in shock, and stood up, dropping his bag twice before he managed to get it over his shoulder.

"I'll go with him, professor. He seems incapable of speech, let alone wandering the corridors." Anthony leapt up and put an arm around Peter, guiding him out of the door. "He might be having a reaction to the ink." He said, to a chorus of laughs as Peter ignored them, and continued along the corridors until they reached a bathroom.

Peter was starting to get a few of his senses back, and the first thing he did once safely inside was confront Anthony.

"What was that?! Look what you made me do! This better wash out..." He turned the taps on and stuck his head under them to try and rinse the dark splashes of ink away, to absolutely no avail.

"What IS this stuff?"

"Ask Turlough. Whatever he did to it, that stuff's going to be there for a while. Probably still be there by our first date. Maybe even the second..."

Peter turned to face Anthony, blond and blue-ish fringe dripping into his face. It was rather adorable, really. He looked like he was going through a rebellious phase and had tried and failed to dye his hair.  
>"Why?!"<p>

Anthony smirked, stepping closer and running a hand through his new boyfriend's hair. Peter blushed again. This was too easy.  
>"So, my dear, I can help you wash it all out later..." He practically purred.<p>

Peter just knocked his hand away and gave him an exasperated look.

"Shut up."


	11. Chapter 11

Colin glanced around at the darkness surrounding the area. The lamps weren't on. Probably a Halloween thing, Frobisher had been playing around with the lights and the library and just about everything over the last week. He always went to town over anything trick related that could be blamed on other students. Colin couldn't blame him, tricking the firsties was fun. Being tricked as a firsty wasn't so much fun, but he remembered the sheer awe of all the magic that was everywhere (being able to semi-control the library was even better, once he realized that most people weren't able to do that), and he clearly remembered not minding all the pranks because they were so much fun too.

But it was Halloween, and that made him almost worried. Anything could happen, figuratively. He wouldn't put it past some of the people in his year or younger to play a malicious trick. Something could go bad and he could end up hurt before he even realized it.

There was a faint dripping sound from somewhere. He couldn't place it. Probably ahead of him, maybe a bathroom tap that someone had left on as a joke for a horror story setting, or for a dare. People could get away with anything to do with the bathrooms these days, the teachers didn't care whether they were all messed up or not, because they got private bathrooms that weren't horrible or dirty or flooded. Lucky bastards.

Colin turned around. There was no one around. Odd. The feast should have only just finished, so there should be loads of people in the area, or at least some people talking as they streamed out of the Great Hall. But there was nothing. Just silence, and that continuous dripping, and the darkness.

Someone screamed.

Noise broke out everywhere. People were running through the corridors as quickly as they could, not seeing or seeming to care that Colin was standing there. He glanced back, but could see nothing. Probably a silly scare prank. He hoped.

He walked along with everyone who was running, stopping to pick a couple of people off the floor, but all they did was glance back and run off again. It was getting a little unnerving, really. Surely all of this wasn't a silly prank. And if it wasn't a prank, why was no one telling him what was going on? No teachers, no panicked first years shrieking about axe murderers or Daleks in the dungeons.

Eventually, the river of people trickled out, and just by walking back to Gryffindor Tower at a reasonable pace, he was alone again. The dripping was gone, thankfully. That had been more than a little creepy after the scream and the flood of people.

"Mister Baker!" It was Professor Jayston calling from the edge of the corridor. "What are you doing out of the common room at this time?"

"It's before curfew, professor, and I didn't want to get caught up in all those people who were running around." He answered as politely as he could. He didn't like the History of Magic professor; they really needed a new one. This one was always going on about court stuff in wizarding history, and nothing else.

"Mister Baker." Professor Jayston said quietly. "Those people were running from the group of killers who ended up in the Main Hall. Someone let them in. It is not yet certain who it is, or if any of the killers themselves still roam the corridors. It is not safe alone."

What. Killers. In the school? Who had let them in? Colin glanced around, a bolt of fear sinking into his stomach.

"I'll be very careful, sir." Colin said. "I'm very good at Defence." He was acutely aware that the professor's wand was out (could be for protection) and he had said that anyone could be the person who got these killers in. It could be him, and he wasn't taking any chances. Why oh why was he so bad at Defence Against the Dark Arts?

"Baker, you failed Defence Against the Dark Arts." He said smoothly. Merlin. Merlin's dick. This was not good. Not good at all. He didn't even have his wand on him. He couldn't defend himself. Mel had his wand. Mel had his wand and he was defenceless against someone who could be planning to murder him. Not good. Not good at all. Why had he given Mel his wand...

The next thing he saw was a bright jet of red and everything went dark.

*•**•**•**•**•**•**•**•*

The room was dark and there was a dripping noise. Colin opened his eyes slowly, knowing that whatever he would see next would be the opposite of a good thing.

It was a very bad thing. Very bad. Dear Merlin. It was horrible.

A girl a little bit younger than him, maybe in third year or something, was hung by her hands. The bottoms of her feet were slashed, and there was a faint shimmer of a magic barrier underneath her. When each drop of blood hit the ground, it echoed far louder than a single drop should have been.

They were in the room alone, yet his stun had been lifted. So whoever it was must have just left.

"Hey." He said quietly, and her eyes shot open, thoroughly panicked. "Sorry. I'm Colin."

"Evelyn." She rasped, and winced as another drop of blood hit the floor. Tears welled up in her eyes at the effort of speaking.

He made the choice. He knew what would happen, what he would have to do. He didn't have much of a future, nor did he have many friends, or anyone that would miss him too much (don't think about mum, she'll be fine). Evelyn was bright. He had heard her name, now, he realized, and she had the opposite of no future.

"Okay, Evelyn. How do you feel about Threstrals?"

+•+•+•+•+•+•+•+•+

"It was painless." Colin said, just over a month later. "At least, it was painless after the torture. He tortured me with...I don't know. I can't remember. It was a spell and it was creating bruises very quickly."

He stopped for the observers to take notes, before continuing. "He didn't use an unforgivable to kill me. I think there was blood for that one, but I was dead so I wasn't exactly certain."

"Thank you, Mister Baker. That wraps up our section on Mister Jayston's trial, if anyone not directly related to Mister Baker's case could now leave." Most of the people in the room got up without speaking and left the small room.

"Now we can continue. Was there a particular motive for becoming a ghost that can be fulfilled so you may continue onwards?"

There was, but it wasn't going to happen. They didn't give wands to ghosts. Ghosts couldn't do spells as such that had anything to do with incantations or wands. He wanted to learn the defence that could have saved him, but knew he couldn't. It was an impulse choice that he really shouldn't have made. He should have thought about it.

"No." He said.

"And is there anywhere specific you wish to reside in your death?"

"Hogwarts."


	12. Chapter 12

Being librarian of a library that was always moving was a tough job. Luckily, Professor River Song was up for it. The books were her friends, and the library her home. She had a set of rooms just outside of the library, but she never used them.

Students liked River, and River liked the students. She had a few favourites, like that little first year girl, Clara, who had such an enthusiasm for Charms, and seemed genuinely enchanted by the library, and its constant rustling of paper wings and the gentle shifting of bookcases. Clara seemed to be in here half of the time she wasn't in lessons.

Or Fitz, and his strange but incredibly sweet friend, who had once spent most of the night huddled over a table perusing book after book of names. The library liked Fitz's friend, and had pulled in close around the pair to make sure they weren't disturbed. River had flown over the top of them, balancing precariously but with great skill on top of two thick tomes on wizarding law. The books didn't like being stepped on that much, but they understood the need for her to check on the pair.

The books kept River company on the days when only a few students wandered in and out of the maze of shelves, or even when not a single person entered (this was mostly during the breaks when there were no students around and many teachers went on family visits). Each book was unique in personality. Her favourite was a slim Potions textbook who would flutter down to her shoulder and nestle against her curly hair, pages whispering inaudible secrets with every movement.

There were books that would chase each other in playful flight around the ceiling, books that would sit patiently on shelves and jump away when a student reached for them. There were books that followed River around in a rustling, bustling group, tripping over themselves and competing to perch themselves on her head. The books had minds of their own, even more so than the shelves, that moved around whenever you turned your back.

Sometimes, students would come in looking sad, or lonely, and River would whisper to her crowd of books and they would flutter off and surround the student in a rustling, concerned crowd until the student cheered up.

As a young Ravenclaw student at Hogwarts, River had spent a great deal of time sitting in the library perusing textbooks and fiction books and history books and whatever books she could get her hands on. She had simply not been as practical as most of the students, she had to force all of it through books.

She had stayed on after her NEWTs as the assistant librarian, and eventually taken over when the older librarian had gotten too old to deal with the books at all hours, developing such a strong affinity with the books that she could even control the shelves to an extent, an ability only a few of the professors and students seemed to share.

It was often rumoured around Hogwarts that the library was somehow infinite. No one had ever reached the end. Bigger on the inside, shifting and changing and maze-like. River thought it probably was. She'd flown over large tracts of the place, balancing on her gently flapping law books, and so far had seen no end. Students camped out in there for days, sometimes, near the exams.

Occasionally people even got lost in there, and River would sent out patrols of curious books, and when they found a student they would guide them back to the front desk, pushing and leading and flapping until the student would emerge, blinking, into the bright library light and be greeted with a warm smile and a kind 'hello, sweetie' from River. However, students had been trapped in the library for days before, the shelves refusing to budge, and once there was a student who went missing in the last week of a break and was not even noticed missing until a few days after their friends returned. Those unlucky students were also greeted by concerned friends and mugs of hot chocolate.

Come night time, River would fly on her books to a little clearing amidst the shelves, and she would lie on a hammock and drift off to sleep, surrounded by the soft rustling of ink-stained pages.

River loved her books, and the library was her home.


	13. Chapter 13

Nyssa hated Quidditch with a passion. It was (usually) a bunch of boys flying around on broomsticks trying to look important. And there was a lot of mud and rain, and it was often very cold. It was the worst. But she attended, mostly so she could tell her brother that she was having a life outside of her textbooks at her father's request. Her brother, Adric, was likely to bury himself in learning when he got here if she didn't tell him how 'exciting' the social events were. The social events were the opposite of exciting. Everything was dull so far except the feasts and the occasional prank from Frobisher that went even better than the poltergeist could expect (like the one when every male in the school was supposed to end up with a moustache but instead the potion went wrong and everyone got a long flowing stereotypical wizard's beard, and spent three days getting them cut off by Magical Mishaps Volunteers).

This time, she was sitting alone in the Ravenclaw stands, in the wet and cold, wrapped up in her coat and her scarf all the way up to her eyes, which was mildly uncomfortable with all the breathing into it, but it was far better than being cold. The game was so boring that she didn't even mind when that Slytherin boy showed up to flirt with Peter again. Tracking the different shades of red flushing over the boy's face was more stimulating than watching people fake dive after the snitch (it was obvious when that was happening, she didn't know how anyone fell for it). She minded even less when a cute Gryffindor girl decided to come and 'keep an eye' on her 'friend' (Nyssa could tell that they were not friends at all, and this girl did not glance once at Anthony (Nyssa managed to learn his name after Peter said it happily whilst blushing when he arrived (that boy had such a massive crush on the Slytherin, it was painful to watch))).

"Hey." Nyssa said quietly after five minutes of watching the back of Peter's neck get redder and redder. It wasn't as interesting as the girl sitting next to her, she was sure. Besides, the girl was cute. Nyssa wasn't much for going after people and asking them on dates or such, but she wasn't averse to getting to know random cute girls who sat next to her in Quidditch.

"Hi." The girl said back, glancing at her. Her eyes were brown. Brown and sweet like melted chocolate and-nope. Stop, Nyssa, she thought to herself. "I'm Tegan." Her accent was Australian. She thought. Nyssa wasn't good with accents.

"I'm Nyssa." She said, smiling back.

"Is that a weird wizarding name or something?" Tegan asked immediately.

Nyssa laughed. She hadn't really thought about it before. "I suppose so. It's better than Adric, though. That's my brother's name." Any chance to pick on Adric was a good enough chance for her. Adric was a terrible name. It screamed nerdy, and Adric lived up to that nerdy name, despite being ten.

"That is worse." She said. "Though I've heard some ridiculous names in the muggle world. There's some cricketer who named his kid Tabula."

"That is a bit of a silly sounding name." She said. "Muggles can be very silly people, though."

"They really can." Tegan said. "One of my neighbours thought that my aunt was sending me to a posh boarding school to 'sort out my silly notions'!"

Nyssa laughed. "Are your relatives muggles, then?"

"I think so." She said. "They all live over in Australia, sent me over to live with my aunt so I could get a different education to my siblings. They never got the letter from me telling them about Hogwarts, and I never felt comfortable sending another one."

Nyssa nodded. "My father adopted me and my brother, so I don't really know. I was sort of adopted into the magical world when I was little, but I'll never know if my parents were muggles or not. My brother was thought to be a squib, I think, but he was adopted by my father before I started showing magic." She wasn't sure why she was telling Tegan all of this. She didn't really talk about it that much, even with her father or her brother, not since she and her father had had a bit of an argument about why he had adopted two children who weren't magical (or supposedly weren't). But Tegan seemed pretty upset about her family and she wasn't really sure what else she could say.

"That's interesting." Tegan said. "You seem really nice, Nyssa."

Nyssa laughed. "I don't talk to people that much. Everyone thinks I'm hostile."

Tegan smiled at her. "You're not hostile. I bet they don't look past that pile of books you're always carrying."

Nyssa scoffed. "How do you know about the books?"

Tegan laughed so loud that Peter turned around (his face was STILL bright red). "You walk around the corridors all day, and to all of your classes, with a bag that's completely full and another armful of books. I've seen you drop them at least twice. I can't miss those monstrous things."

Nyssa smiled. "Fair enough." She kept staring into Tegan's eyes when they fell silent, both of them still smiling. She would have missed the snitch being caught if everyone hadn't stood up cheering. Ravenclaw caught the snitch, but they just about missed winning, somehow. Gryffindor must be quite a good team.

"Well done." She said to Tegan. "You win, I think."

Tegan nudged her in the ribs. "You're not meant to be pleased."

"Tough." Nyssa teased, trying her hardest not to blush. She liked Tegan. She was nice and funny. But this would probably end now and they'd hardly speak to each other ever again.

Both girls left the Quidditch pitch desperately hoping that that would not be the case.


	14. Chapter 14

Parker had a shadow. This shadow took the form of a Slytherin girl, in the same year as them, with a sharp, sly face and a mad sense of humour, who would follow them around and talk constantly at them. Not even really to them. Just at them.

To be honest, she confused Parker.

Her name was Missy (which seemed like a bit of a silly name, but then again they were the one with the name of a type of fountain pen), they'd found out. Missy Gomez, everyone thought she was mad, and she had a single friend, who seemed more like a pet to everyone they asked. And, for some unfathomable reason, she was obsessed with Parker.

They would be happily studying in the library, and Missy would appear from behind a bookshelf, all smiles and bounciness and charm. They would be walking to their next lesson, and Missy would skip up, ready with a greeting and a story about her day. Or if Parker told her to leave, which they did several times, the smiles would vanish and be replaced with a sad, lost puppy look, and something in their normally icy heart would thaw a little and they would let her stay. It was odd, because she was rude to everyone, but she treated Parker like they were best friends already. To be fair, Parker didn't have any friends unless you counted the sort of lost puppy that was Lethe, and those kids that helped them out and stuff.

It was when she started introducing them to people as 'my boyfriend' that they decided something needed to change.

"Missy," they said, spinning on their heel and cutting her off mid-chatter while she followed them around the library, "I am not your boyfriend. Or your girlfriend, before you ask. I don't- I don't even know if I LIKE you!"

She stopped, and gave her usual puppy dog look.

"That is NOT working on me today." They folded their arms, confronting her with an angry stare. "Either you explain all...all this, or I- I'll report you. To someone..." That wasn't their best threat, but it seemed to work.

Missy's puppy dog look dropped, replaced with one of what seemed to be genuine sadness.

"You- you don't remember?" She reached out a hand to touch their arm, withdrawing it as they jerked away.

"Remember what?" They took a step back, thinking that maybe she was even crazier than everyone else had said...

A pained expression flickered across her face. "We were friends, once. When we were kids. When you used to go by Peter, and you weren't all angry. We used to be best friends... Have you really forgotten?"

They flinched at the use of their name, the name that they'd worked so long to get everyone to forget, the name that they had tried, and managed, to distance themselves from. "Don't mention that name. Please." A faint flicker of memory was stirring, somewhere. A little girl with long dark hair, sitting in a Muggle playground and looking lost. They vaguely remembered approaching her, asking her what was wrong, talking for hours on the swings until their parents had pulled them away, telling them that Muggleborns were below their class of wizard.

They remembered meeting her again, in that same playground, when they'd been eight and ran away from home for the first time, after an argument. They couldn't even remember what the argument was about. They'd sat with the girl for ages and planned a life away from adults, together. When they were older, they'd said. Then they'd run away for good and travel the world.

It became almost a weekly thing, after that. Little Parker had crept out during the day, when their parents were too busy fussing over small things to notice the disappearance of one of their children. They'd run off down to the playground and Missy would always be there, without fail, sitting on one of the swings. They would talk for ages, and Parker would show her little magic tricks their older siblings had taught them.

One day, they'd been caught red handed, halfway out of the front door, by their father, who had shouted and shouted until they had cried, and confessed, and been shouted at even more. They'd been forbidden from leaving the house for months, their room firmly locked day and night. Over time, as they grew up and left for Hogwarts and learned more about themselves, they'd forgotten about their childhood friend (who must have changed a lot if they hadn't recognized her), never once thinking about what it must have been like for her, seemingly abandoned and scorned by the one person who had paid attention to her.

They'd moved closer to Missy without even realising. This time, when she reached out to touch their arm, they let her. A little grudgingly, but they let her.

She opened her mouth, no words coming out for a few seconds, and then, "I just want my friend back..."

Parker paused, grey eyes glancing at her hand on their arm, to her face imploring them to agree with her, then back to her hand. They took it, slowly, really not used to the touching thing that Missy seemed to be so fond of.

"...Fine." They said, giving her a small, tight smile. There was a lot to fix here, and a lot to tell. But maybe it would work. "Just... Lay off the boyfriend thing, okay?"


	15. Chapter 15

"Koschei, Koschei, I have the best idea ever!" Theta came running straight up the stairs the moment he had flooed in. A string of relatives looked up at him disapprovingly from the bottom of the stairs, a clear sign that the floo password would soon be changing again. That or Koschei would finally be allowed a floo in his own room. Theta came every day, seeing as they had no school to be at. Just tutoring every so often when his parents could be bothered to remember. He felt like his mind was rotting away. He wanted to do things! And he had one very specific thing in mind right now.

"What is it, Theta?" He said, trying to keep the illusion of not being too excited about it.

Theta leaned in. "We could sneak into Hogwarts and go to lessons that don't need magic!" He whispered excitedly.

Koschei couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that before. They were allowed to floo to Hogsmeade at any time, and getting into Hogwarts from there wasn't hard. They could walk up the path, Theta at least been there before to see his siblings once on a holiday. Anyone their age could get into Hogwarts if they could see it, and because they grew up around magic they could see these things no problem. Hogwarts security was terrible. There was probably something that prevented people with malicious intent from even getting into Hogwarts, but Koschei wouldn't bet on it.

"We can sneak into Muggle Studies or something. Brax says that the professor is really stupid, he doesn't notice anything and if he did he probably wouldn't care." Theta continued excitedly.

Koschei, however, was starting to have his doubts, the initial excitement wearing off.

"Theta, we don't know anything about muggles. And what if the class is full or something? And we can't sit down and we get kicked out. We don't have anyone to contact in Hogwarts for robes or a timetable or details or even a map. We can't do this."

Theta grinned. "Give me a week. I can do this."

Koschei smiled, his friend's excitement infectious as usual. "Fair enough. So, what are we going to do today?"

#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#

"Koschei!" Theta called up the stairs, running up the moment he flooed in. The floo password had only just been changed, and his mother had given him three lectures about his 'out of order...ahem... 'squib friend'' already since everyone had left for Hogwarts, and it had only been a month. At this rate, he'd have had about ten by Christmas.

"I got a sort of lead." He said quietly, as soon as the door was closed on them. "I knew Brax wouldn't help, but he won't tattle either. So he said that Susan does Muggle Studies. Susan is my cousin, I think. Probably. I don't pay much attention to my family tree, but it's something like that."

"She's your cousin once removed." He said. "Cousin by grandparents." Theta's lack of knowledge about everything that wasn't stuff he didn't really have to know was almost embarrassing.

Theta shrugged. "Same thing. Anyway, she said that she wouldn't help us either, because she would be worried about us getting caught. Susan is head girl, so I'm not surprised. She never had a sense of adventure."

"So we're not doing any better than we were at the start." Koschei summarised, rolling his eyes.

Theta shook his head and grinned delightedly. "She passed us on to someone who would definitely help, because she wanted us to do this, just not on her neck." He reached into his coat and pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of parchment that had been folded and refolded many times.

"And what did this person say?" Koschei knew that Theta liked being asked questions so he could do a big reveal. They were both dramatic people at heart.

"'Dear Theta Hartnell and other interested parties. Fuck yes. Of course I'll help you do that it sounds like so much fun. We will meet to help prepare you every Saturday and with an additional Wednesday during Christmas if you are able to. Can't wait to meet you, Ace McShane.'"

Koschei laughed. "Sounds absolutely great. I can't wait to meet them."

"Her." Theta said cheerfully. "I met her a few years ago when she came for Christmas, she was Susan's date. If there was ever a thing that Susan did that our family didn't approve of it was Ace."

Koschei nodded. "Anything your family doesn't approve of is definitely good enough for me. Is she any good at this kind of thing?"

Theta nodded. "She's on an advanced course to become an auror. She's good at practically everything."

This was going to be far easier now they had someone to help.

/'/'/'/'/

Koschei kept going over and over what he was going to do on Saturday. How he was going to do it, what he was going to tell his parents, how long they were going for, where they'd meet, it was meticulously planned as far as actually getting to Ace and Susan.

They were using the excuse that they were going to watch the Quidditch match. Technically anyone was allowed to go to those, especially kids from other schools (it was so they could brag about how good all their facilities were). Koschei doubted that they would actually be welcome, squibs as they were, but they were sort of given an open invitation and squibs had never been excluded from it.

And they WERE going to see the Quidditch match, so they weren't exactly lying. Ace was one of the beaters on the Gryffindor team, and she would be meeting them after the match. It wouldn't be a long meeting, but it would be enough to invent some reason for the pair to be at Hogwarts every weekend for what would definitely be a long time. If everything went to plan, of course.

When the day finally came, Theta had been gushing about it constantly for two days. Koschei left in the early morning, through the floo, straight after breakfast. The match wouldn't start for another hour, but he wanted to meet up with Theta first, and it would take a while to get into the school once they had walked up and queued at the gates to get seats that weren't for students.

It was pretty cold, but still only the first match of the season, so it was more wet than cold. Koschei was wearing a thick waterproof charmed cloak anyway. He could take it off if he got really hot (most wizards charmed their cloaks with warming charms but for obvious reasons Koschei couldn't do that), anyway, and it didn't hurt to be prepared. Theta never prepared for anything, he'd probably have to take his cloak off and give it to Theta to stop him from freezing to death or something.

Hogsmeade was grey and dull when it wasn't sunny or covered with snow. There was little effort to keep it anything more than an old looking village when there wasn't a Hogwarts weekend. Not much was open even at half eight in the morning on a Saturday, but everything would be open and sparkling the moment the game ended.

Theta was already waiting by the gates to Hogwarts when Koschei got there. He wasn't surprised, he'd been held up by his father at the last minute about greeting about a thousand relatives whilst he was at the game. He wouldn't be talking to anyone except Ace and probably Susan. They'd be sitting with Susan as they were invited by her, and they were glad to not be sitting with all the proud parents and bratty kids who would most likely be in the stalls. And there would also be members of the press there, small papers that report of tiny games like this to get more readers from the graduating members of Hogwarts.

Koschei had been spoken to by members of the press when he'd been out in wizarding places, usually when he went to Diagon Alley when all the sales were on a day before Hogwarts, and people would come up to him asking whether he was looking forward to school this year and what his favourite lesson was and it was the worst feeling to tell them that he didn't go to Hogwarts or any wizarding school at all. Their noses would turn up for a second and then they realised that they should be sympathetic, so they would hurry off without saying another word, usually. Sometimes he'd had women ask him what he was doing whilst holding the hand of a young child, and they'd gasp and hurry off, clutching the child tighter as they went.

Koschei really hated wizards and witches and all of them. All of them who didn't consider squibs to be worth just as much as them. He was still just as human as all the rest of them, why should he be treated differently...

"Hey Theta," he said cheerfully, "Sorry I'm late, my father held me up."

Theta nodded. "I only just got here anyway, so you aren't exactly late. It's quite early at the moment, but Susan said she'd wait in the Owlery for us from eight, and she'd show us around a bit if we wanted to see." Susan was definitely one of the better witches in the world. Of course he wanted to see around Hogwarts.

Theta grabbed his hand and lead him forwards, the invitation from Susan in his other hand, and they went to try something new, something they deserved.


	16. Chapter 16

Frobisher liked being a penguin, albeit a shapeshifting, poltergeist one. And every knows that penguins love ice. Frobisher was no exception. And therefore, many of the pranks he pulled on the ever suspecting but still vulnerable Hogwarts students involved the cold, slippery stuff. There was the time when he froze everyone's ink, rendering it useless for days. Or the time he booby trapped Gryffindor Tower to rain ice on the next unsuspecting student to walk through the portrait door. However, the prank he was about to pull topped all of these.

He'd been planning for weeks. He had enlisted the ghostly help of Jack and Colin, and even the support of Professor Pink. This was the biggest thing he'd ever done, possibly.

The Great Hall had been magically cleared of all chairs and tables, those were now hovering up close to the ceiling, held steady by the Charms professor's spell. Jack and Colin guarded the doors, turning away any students who tried to walk through while Frobisher was working.

It took three hours of swift flying around the floor and sending wave after wave of blue and white cascading into the floor for his masterpiece to be complete. And it was truly a masterpiece.

Where the floor had once been, there was now an ice rink. One thick, perfectly glossy sheet of frozen water covered the entire Hall, crystal tendrils snaking up the walls and catching the light.

Now, the poltergeist's only job was to wait.

It didn't take long. A third year girl wandered through the door, looking to get dinner relatively early so she didn't starve while trying to find her friends and make them leave somewhere warm to eat, so she was not really looking where she was going, and promptly skidded and landed flat on her back, the contents of her bag flying everywhere. She scrambled up, slipping on the cold floor once more, and looked angrily around for the penguin she knew would be hiding somewhere.

Frobisher zoomed gleefully out of his hiding place, cackling madly at the girl's misfortune. Her name was Charley, he remembered. Good humoured, a fun sort always ready for a challenge such as an icy Great Hall.

"Got you! I GOT you!" He whizzed around her head until she got bored of glaring at him, and instead glared furiously at a single spot in front of her, and started picking up her stuff off the floor.

"Frobisher, if you don't stop that, I will- I will... Just stop that, okay!" She waved a hand through him in an attempt to get him out of her face, avoiding giving him a threat relating to her family's connections.

At that moment, there was a shriek and a fluttering sound and Charley turned round to see Clara, the first year she'd been tutoring, sprawled on the floor with a concerned Charms book flapping around her head. She (very carefully) walked over to help her up.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... Thanks, Charley." Clara smiled at the older girl and took the fluttering textbook back into her arms. "Why is the Great Hall an ice rink? Did I miss something?"

Charley glared at Frobisher, who was still zooming around above their heads.

"Blame the flying penguin."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

It didn't take long for news of the frozen Great Hall to spread around the school, and soon everyone knew. People were flooding in to have a go (usually after eating dinner in the kitchen), and Frobisher was feeling a little sidelined. It had been his prank, after all, and now it seemed to have been turned into a fairground attraction. Oh well, he thought. At least now there were more people to randomly shower with ice.

[#][#][#][#][#][#][#][#]

One person who was not so keen to go on the ice was Anthony. Peter had to practically drag him all the way to the Great Hall, unfazed by his boyfriend's attempts to stop him.

"Come ON, you'll be great at it! You're great at everything. I'm the one who'll be rubbish, and I'm still willing to try..." This statement was the one that had eventually forced Anthony onto the ice, and the statement that had been proven incredibly wrong.

Peter seemed to be a miraculous professional skater, gliding around with ease on his charmed shoes. How he did it was a mystery, considering his ridiculous clumsiness in all other areas.

Anthony, on the other hand, kept falling over every few seconds, which was extremely embarrassing and completely out of character for him. He eventually resorted to clinging tightly to his boyfriend's arm and letting him take charge, which Peter was being decidedly smug about.

He found it pretty attractive, to be honest.

(:)(:)(:)(:)(:)(:)(:)(:)

Fitz and Lethe stumbled across the ice rink entirely by accident. They were walking back from the library (they'd been there since curfew ended, Lethe had slept in Gryffindor Tower that night), when they had been suddenly faced with an exceptionally cold Great Hall and about fifty chattering students doing their best not to fall over.

Lethe had been pretty nervous about going in. People, so many people, and a risk of serious injury from the ice. But Fitz had insisted, gentle persuasion eventually coaxing them out onto the ice.

And they were actually not that bad. It took them a minute, but soon Lethe was managing to hold their own in the small crowd of people. They could manoeuvre pretty well (they had a really good sense of balance. Flying was something that they had passed very well in first year, despite being...not so happy that year), but they tried to keep it slow for Fitz, who was sliding along very slowly and shakily behind them, and grinning massively.

Eventually Fitz's original momentum ran out, and he jogged carefully up to Lethe, taking their hand and pulling them close. Lethe didn't protest as Fitz pushed once with his foot and sent the pair of them into a gentle spinning dance across the floor, both smiling and Lethe blushing a little, keeping the balance a little shakily but managing to avoid everyone else on the rink.

Ace was not messing around. As soon as she'd heard there was ice skating, she'd grabbed Susan and pulled her into the rink, incredibly pleased with her sudden chance to show off.

She was a good skater. Seriously good. Years of Muggle birthday parties and a few lessons (that had mostly ended badly) had paid off, and she was soon cutting a path through the crowds of people, Susan trailing behind a little, and barely missing a pair who seemed to be dancing and were completely lost in each other. Susan called a quick apology out to them (though neither seemed to hear), and several others who were caught in Ace's unrelenting path.

Some floppy haired kid dancing like a drunken giraffe was nearly decapitated by Ace as she shot past, and this time she stopped to apologise, causing Susan to crash straight into her. Both girls fell on top of the thoroughly confused boy in a giggling heap, and stayed that way for several minutes, leaving the poor kid to crawl out from under them and resume his weird dancing.

{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}{+}

By the end of the night, only a few people were left in the Great Hall.

Charley and Clara were skating slowly around the edge, deep in conversation about Charms, and then stuff that was not Charms and then hey, did Clara want to meet Charley in the library after school on Monday for a date? To which the answer was a very shy 'yes'. Charley hadn't meant for it to happen that way, but the words came out and they were said now.

Lethe and Fitz were still caught in their slow, spinning dance, half asleep but too busy enjoying this rare moment of happiness to care.

Peter and Anthony (mostly Anthony) had given up on ice skating and were now shamelessly kissing just outside the Great Hall, and had been for quite a while. People mostly chose to just ignore the pair, but a few got pictures to embarrass them later.

A few other students skated lazily around the Hall, unaware to the not-so-evil plot that was taking place above their heads.

Frobisher had a plan. The penguin clapped his hands twice, setting off a mini fireworks display over the ceiling. Blue and white bursts of light erupted and then dissolved into thousands of tiny snowflakes, spiralling down and coming to rest on the hair and shoulders and faces of the few happy students left in the Great Hall.


	17. Chapter 17

"Look at him." Someone was whispering about them again. Not again. Every day, every hour, again and again and again and again and again just people talking about them and saying how weird they are, how wrong, how DIFFERENT.

They just want to mind their own business. They gave up on friends what feels like years ago but was more like two days. It was actually easier when they weren't trying to talk to other people, but they were still very lonely already.

And it wasn't just loneliness that was a downside of not having friends. No one was there reminding them that they should be doing this or that or going to bed now or, and this might have been the worst, eating. They kept forgetting to eat and they'd start feeling faint in classes and then it would be even harder to concentrate in classes. This had happened twice in as many days and they didn't know how they kept forgetting. They just sort of didn't notice when everyone went to eat. And when they did remember to go to the meals they always couldn't eat much because they just felt sick a lot of the time when confronted with the rich food that was provided at every meal.

They kept getting lost, too, and people would stare at them when they walked in late with mumbled apologies and sat at the first empty seat and stared at the desk and their parchment red faced as they heard the person in the chair next to them shuffle to the side a little to get away from the weirdo. And when they weren't avoiding them, they were talking about them, or very loudly and slowly to them, and they found it hard to concentrate on the words when the tone was so odd and what did they even mean when they were saying friendly words and it was in a friendly sort of tone (at least, they thought that was a friendly tone) but yet whenever they tried to answer the questions they got laughed at.

They'd thought that after the journey to Hogwarts, they had a friend in Fitz, at least. That was something, right? Fitz had been nice, and had really helped them when they panicked by the boats (the water was dark and they were cold and the boats looked like they weren't completely stable), so they'd sort of thought that Fitz had liked them, and even if the other Ravenclaws didn't like them much, they weren't exactly without friends completely.

But after the sorting they hadn't spoken to Fitz again. They had a few lessons that Fitz was in, though they didn't know all of them because they hadn't had a week of lessons yet, but they'd been late so frequently that they'd never dared to look for the seat Fitz was in and then sit next to him. Fitz probably had real friends, anyway, and he wouldn't want to hang around with someone like them. And they hadn't even tried to go up to Fitz and talk to him, they didn't want to inflict that on themselves. Didn't want to face rejection from someone who they thought could potentially care.

They just tried to block all the people out when they heard them talking about them. It was the only thing they could do.

;';';';';';';';

Blocking people out was a bad idea. Ignoring people was a bad idea. They knew that now.

They hadn't processed the people who had been following them around all day. They hadn't processed that constantly they were talking about them.

They didn't see the people closing in from all sides. They didn't hear them talking about who would punch where and when they would attack.

They didn't pay attention one of the times when it was very important and now they ended up here. A fist to the stomach before they saw the owner. A kick to the knees and they were on the ground. Their arms pinned behind their back as they struggled with no result. One person grabbing their head and another with a punch to the nose. And when they were done with blows to the legs and their hands and stomach and back and face and it felt like everywhere was in pain and something was bleeding but they couldn't pinpoint what yet (a quick touch to the face revealed it was blood from their nose), they left them lying on the floor of somewhere they couldn't quite remember where they were. And they were laughing as they left. Laughing.

They felt a swell of magic inside of them, an odd feeling that they had learnt by now to pinpoint and control. They wanted to let it wash over them because they knew that with it the pain would be forgotten, but they didn't know what else would go with it, so they held it back. They didn't want to be alone and without memory for any length of time for any longer.

When they calmed down, they found they could remember exactly where they were and how they could get back to Ravenclaw Tower, which was a huge relief because they wanted to collapse and sleep and maybe cry a bit if they could do it quietly enough, without attracting the attention and mockery of the other students.

[][][][][][][][][]

Getting back to the Tower was difficult, and scary, they were just so terrified that someone was going to come out and attack them again, and they wouldn't be able to get up or hold back their magic and everything would be ruined and they wouldn't have even made it to the check up from St Mungo's after two weeks. That would be a complete failure on their part.

When they got there, they realised how difficult it was going to be to climb up all the steps in the tower. Something must be damaged inside, because they can't breathe properly and that is not good for climbing stairs. They must look a bit of a mess, too. They might get in trouble for not defending themselves properly. Was that something you got in trouble for? They didn't remember.

It was difficult, getting up the Tower. The stairs were steeper than they remembered, especially with the fast developing limp favouring their left leg. Everything hurt a lot and it was difficult to think past lying down and attempting to sleep. That was the goal here. They could sort out the injuries from there, probably. It wouldn't be too hard. They hoped that they didn't have to go to the healer, especially before their appointment with the St Mungo's person. But if they were satisfied that they were doing okay they would probably only come once. Though they still had no idea where they were going when school wasn't on.

There were people who stared while they were taking the horribly slow route up the stairs. But no one stopped them and, surprisingly, no one seemed to be talking about them this time. Whenever they did anything to pass people they seemed to hear whispers about them all the time. It could easily have been their imagination, but they didn't think so.

When they reached the top, the riddle to get in was unusually easy. But they may have just been expecting it to be difficult, because they'd never actually had difficulty with it before they may have just been expecting it to be difficult when it was least convenient.

Still no one tried to stop them, even as they limped through the common room in plain sight of anyone who could have been concerned or wanted to stop and tease them or even gloat.

Now they thought about it, they couldn't think of a reason why anyone would have attacked them. They hadn't done anything to offend anyone, at least they didn't think so, they'd just been minding their own business with no friends. They'd hardly even spoken to anyone. They hadn't done anything to provoke anyone to hurt them...

They collapsed into bed and slept and just desperately hoping that they'd remember that last month or so when they woke up.

They did, and felt just as wretchedly miserable as they had when they went to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

"Look at him." Someone was whispering about them again. Not again. Every day, every hour, again and again and again and again and again just people talking about them and saying how weird they are, how wrong, how DIFFERENT.

They just want to mind their own business. They gave up on friends what feels like years ago but was more like two days. It was actually easier when they weren't trying to talk to other people, but they were still very lonely already.

And it wasn't just loneliness that was a downside of not having friends. No one was there reminding them that they should be doing this or that or going to bed now or, and this might have been the worst, eating. They kept forgetting to eat and they'd start feeling faint in classes and then it would be even harder to concentrate in classes. This had happened twice in as many days and they didn't know how they kept forgetting. They just sort of didn't notice when everyone went to eat. And when they did remember to go to the meals they always couldn't eat much because they just felt sick a lot of the time when confronted with the rich food that was provided at every meal.

They kept getting lost, too, and people would stare at them when they walked in late with mumbled apologies and sat at the first empty seat and stared at the desk and their parchment red faced as they heard the person in the chair next to them shuffle to the side a little to get away from the weirdo. And when they weren't avoiding them, they were talking about them, or very loudly and slowly to them, and they found it hard to concentrate on the words when the tone was so odd and what did they even mean when they were saying friendly words and it was in a friendly sort of tone (at least, they thought that was a friendly tone) but yet whenever they tried to answer the questions they got laughed at.

They'd thought that after the journey to Hogwarts, they had a friend in Fitz, at least. That was something, right? Fitz had been nice, and had really helped them when they panicked by the boats (the water was dark and they were cold and the boats looked like they weren't completely stable), so they'd sort of thought that Fitz had liked them, and even if the other Ravenclaws didn't like them much, they weren't exactly without friends completely.

But after the sorting they hadn't spoken to Fitz again. They had a few lessons that Fitz was in, though they didn't know all of them because they hadn't had a week of lessons yet, but they'd been late so frequently that they'd never dared to look for the seat Fitz was in and then sit next to him. Fitz probably had real friends, anyway, and he wouldn't want to hang around with someone like them. And they hadn't even tried to go up to Fitz and talk to him, they didn't want to inflict that on themselves. Didn't want to face rejection from someone who they thought could potentially care.

They just tried to block all the people out when they heard them talking about them. It was the only thing they could do.

;';';';';';';';

Blocking people out was a bad idea. Ignoring people was a bad idea. They knew that now.

They hadn't processed the people who had been following them around all day. They hadn't processed that constantly they were talking about them.

They didn't see the people closing in from all sides. They didn't hear them talking about who would punch where and when they would attack.

They didn't pay attention one of the times when it was very important and now they ended up here. A fist to the stomach before they saw the owner. A kick to the knees and they were on the ground. Their arms pinned behind their back as they struggled with no result. One person grabbing their head and another with a punch to the nose. And when they were done with blows to the legs and their hands and stomach and back and face and it felt like everywhere was in pain and something was bleeding but they couldn't pinpoint what yet (a quick touch to the face revealed it was blood from their nose), they left them lying on the floor of somewhere they couldn't quite remember where they were. And they were laughing as they left. Laughing.

They felt a swell of magic inside of them, an odd feeling that they had learnt by now to pinpoint and control. They wanted to let it wash over them because they knew that with it the pain would be forgotten, but they didn't know what else would go with it, so they held it back. They didn't want to be alone and without memory for any length of time for any longer.

When they calmed down, they found they could remember exactly where they were and how they could get back to Ravenclaw Tower, which was a huge relief because they wanted to collapse and sleep and maybe cry a bit if they could do it quietly enough, without attracting the attention and mockery of the other students.

[][][][][][][][][]

Getting back to the Tower was difficult, and scary, they were just so terrified that someone was going to come out and attack them again, and they wouldn't be able to get up or hold back their magic and everything would be ruined and they wouldn't have even made it to the check up from St Mungo's after two weeks. That would be a complete failure on their part.

When they got there, they realised how difficult it was going to be to climb up all the steps in the tower. Something must be damaged inside, because they can't breathe properly and that is not good for climbing stairs. They must look a bit of a mess, too. They might get in trouble for not defending themselves properly. Was that something you got in trouble for? They didn't remember.

It was difficult, getting up the Tower. The stairs were steeper than they remembered, especially with the fast developing limp favouring their left leg. Everything hurt a lot and it was difficult to think past lying down and attempting to sleep. That was the goal here. They could sort out the injuries from there, probably. It wouldn't be too hard. They hoped that they didn't have to go to the healer, especially before their appointment with the St Mungo's person. But if they were satisfied that they were doing okay they would probably only come once. Though they still had no idea where they were going when school wasn't on.

There were people who stared while they were taking the horribly slow route up the stairs. But no one stopped them and, surprisingly, no one seemed to be talking about them this time. Whenever they did anything to pass people they seemed to hear whispers about them all the time. It could easily have been their imagination, but they didn't think so.

When they reached the top, the riddle to get in was unusually easy. But they may have just been expecting it to be difficult, because they'd never actually had difficulty with it before they may have just been expecting it to be difficult when it was least convenient.

Still no one tried to stop them, even as they limped through the common room in plain sight of anyone who could have been concerned or wanted to stop and tease them or even gloat.

Now they thought about it, they couldn't think of a reason why anyone would have attacked them. They hadn't done anything to offend anyone, at least they didn't think so, they'd just been minding their own business with no friends. They'd hardly even spoken to anyone. They hadn't done anything to provoke anyone to hurt them...

They collapsed into bed and slept and just desperately hoping that they'd remember that last month or so when they woke up.

They did, and felt just as wretchedly miserable as they had when they went to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

They had known that something was up all day. Something didn't feel quite right around the castle, something like unease and fear. Hogwarts never feared.

And then there was a cry of warning that struck them deep down in their head but it was too late. There were hands behind their back, pushing them forward, struggling, and they were falling down and down, uncontrollable rolling and someone screaming and everything hurt so badly and then it was black but they knew that the last thing they felt was the control slipping away from them.  
>...<p>

When they woke up, Charley was sitting by their bed and everything hurt. She was crying and looking over to another bed. And there was something wrong. There was a block somewhere, something, it was so wrong and it hurt in their chest, real, physical pain... What were they missing. What.

"Lethe's awake!" She called, and they winced. They thought they'd gotten rid of that...thanks to...something was wrong.

They blinked as someone ran over. He looked scared, and hurt, and they were confused. They didn't recognize this person at all. No. What was going on. Who did they forget.

"Lethe? Are you okay? I'm so- I'm so glad you're awake, oh dear Merlin...Lethe..." And then he grabbed their hand and it was too much oh Merlin it was too much they'd forgotten someone really important. They couldn't respond. They didn't know how. They looked up and there was so much desperation, so much worry, and love, so much love...

This person was someone so, so special. What did they forget that meant that they couldn't remember a single thing about this person? And how was he going to feel? Were they related? Were they...dating? It felt like something was missing and they couldn't take it, they couldn't take it oh Merlin...

They were crying and they couldn't stop themselves.

"What? Lethe...what's wrong? Please, tell me..."

This person, this boy who was so upset...was someone too good to lose. And now they couldn't stop crying. They didn't want to have lost this love, the memories of all the tenderness in his eyes...

"I don't-I don't know who you are...you love me, and I don't know who you are..."

He froze. He froze and he looked so heartbroken, and then he did the thing that made them feel so, so much worse than just some broken ribs and bruises.

He dropped his hand and started pleading. Pleading, saying their name, saying his name, begging for even the smallest scrap of memory.  
>"I'm so...so sorry, I don't, I can't...I don't know who you are..." They were crying again because they were trying so hard, they didn't want to forget this Fitz, they didn't want him to be hurt, please no, they wanted to know the love they had for him...<p>

He was gone. The nurse (her name wasn't surfacing but they did remember her) had lead him away, and now he was shouting at her, and it was horrible to hear. He was devastated, more than Lethe could be, because he actually knew who they were. He could hear Fitz's disbelief, his anguish, his pain.

He was gone, then he was shouting, and then he was crying. A lot. And then he was completely gone, Clara and Charley were gone too. They probably went with him.  
>How did they forget? How could they have forgotten someone who cared so much? Their thoughts echoed into the sudden silence of the hospital wing, and they felt so, so guilty.<p>

The second day was a little bit better. Fitz came in the morning, and brought them some breakfast.  
>"You don't eat after you forget, I know, but...you like these. I thought you'd want to eat them." He seemed sort of empty, robotic, and it was horrible.<p>

"Sorry." They said, and tried to eat what they were given. Fitz was right, it was something they liked.

Fitz left again, and they didn't do much all day. They stayed in bed, talked to the person next to them (her name was Cecilia, she reminded them, and she was Charley's sister).

Fitz came back after what was probably dinner, and brought more food. Then he talked, about his day, and informed Lethe when they asked about things they had forgotten. He was endlessly patient and so, so sad. It was horrible. The guilt was crushing them.

Then Fitz got sent back to his common room for curfew, but he was back within half an hour.  
>"How did we meet?" They asked. They wanted to know, they wanted to trigger a memory.<p>

Fitz smiled at him, a shaky smile. "I didn't have anywhere to sit on the train, and ended up in your carriage. We didn't really speak, and later you were scared of getting in the boats, so I helped you. And then we didn't speak for ages."

There was nothing. They remembered being scared of the boats, but not much else. This was horrible. Nothing was there, and that wasn't good. It must be that anything with Fitz was gone, because they could hardly remember anything in the last few years...  
>They just nodded and smiled at him, and Fitz didn't smile back.<p>

"Try and sleep." He said sadly. "You'll need it to heal." He stayed until after they were asleep. They liked to imagine that when they woke up they'd remember.

/

On the third day, Fitz came up in the morning and ate breakfast with them. They liked Fitz, as a person, and somewhere lost deep in their memories they trusted him. They knew they didn't trust many people, and they knew that Fitz was probably the person they trusted most. But they couldn't remember him no matter how hard they tried. And it hurt to forget this much.

"Are you feeling a bit better?" He asked. They knew that he meant 'are you getting your memories back and when will everything be fine', but they didn't know the answer to that. They thought that maybe, they might be sort of getting some things back but nothing was concrete. It was just sort of a vague glimpse of someone and a feeling of being happy, they didn't know who it was. And they didn't want to hurt him, give him false hope.

"I think the pain spells are working." They said instead. "Nothing hurts anymore." That was a blatant lie. Their chest sort of hurt but it wasn't something physical. Heartache was a better word.

"Should I try and bring some of the work that I've been studying in class up?" Fitz asked. "I mean, I know and I'm pretty sure you remember that you're not doing well in class, but..."  
>They nodded. "If that isn't too much bother." But Charley had told them. Fitz wasn't doing anything at the moment. And it was their fault. If they could only remember, Fitz would be fine again.<p>

\\\\\

The days went mostly like that. There were a few differences. One of the days they panicked and no one could calm them down for two hours and Fitz wasn't even allowed in. They were pretty sure that Fitz could have helped, they could feel it, but they couldn't voice it.

One of the days, Fitz came in with a guy trailing in two minutes behind him ("He said you were a freak and you deserved it. He deserved this more") Fitz informed them, just keeping his voice down so no one else heard. He was very angry, and that just made them feel worse because Fitz cared so much and they still couldn't do anything...).

One of the days, Fitz was the one who was crying, and they tried hugging him and it felt right and warm but they still couldn't remember him. They were pretty sure that if they spent enough time around Fitz it would never be the same but they could see exactly how they'd fallen in love before, and maybe, if they tried, they'd be able to do it again. It would come easily, they were sure, if not for the terrible aching weight of guilt that suffocated them whenever they saw Fitz.

They were healing quite quickly, and they would be going back to lessons soon. They were almost dreading it, and it made them feel ill almost constantly, but they tried to put a brave face on for Fitz, who looked like he was completely exhausted and very run down. They wondered if he'd been sleeping at all.

They just wanted to remember. They knew for certain that they loved Fitz, or had loved Fitz, and they wanted to know what that felt like, and they just didn't want to feel guilty about hurting Fitz anymore.

Everyone else had already left the hospital wing, fully healed. Memory was a complication, and they remembered having to stay longer in the hospital wing before because if they dived straight into Hogwarts as soon as they were healed, they ended up too stressed to be able to cope. They weren't sure they'd be able to cope with Fitz being upset, but they'd have to try.

Lethe was tired of this. So tired.

::::

Fitz came up, and he was even sadder than usual. They spoke normally for a while, as always, but then he asked them.

"Will you still be around? I don't want to pressure you but...sorry. I know. It's probably just creepy for you."

They shook their head. "No, no, Fitz, it's...I'm sorry. I'll stay around, I promise. Maybe... I'll remember..."

He smiled. "I'd like that."

They talked idly again for a short while, and they gradually drifted off to sleep.

They were almost fully asleep when they heard Fitz mumble something, something he hadn't said before like this, so quiet and careful.

"I love you..."

It hurt. It hurt that Fitz loved them so deeply.

Fitz. Fitz. Fitz!

Lethe wasn't tired anymore. They felt like they could do anything and they didn't have to be guilty, they didn't have to be hurt. They could be anything, they were sure, but for now, well, they were going to love Fitz. And they were going to love him more than ever.

"Fitz?" They were pretty sure they were crying, but it was happy this time. They felt so happy.

"Lethe? Do you-are you-"

"I remember."

Fitz grinned, and it was a grin that was now doubly familiar.

They slept well, and Fitz was right there next to them, close, closer than he had been in what felt like forever, and the ache in their chest that had been persistent since they woke up had lifted.


	20. Chapter 20

Christmas at Hogwarts was a spectacular affair. The Great Hall held four enormous trees, hung with baubles and tinsel and decorations of a more magical sort. The corridors were strung with wreaths and little snowstorms whizzed around the castle, leaving trails of powdery snow in their wake that disappeared in minutes.

And of course, there was one piece of mistletoe. Or rather, one shapeshifting poltergeist with a preference for penguins who had temporarily turned himself into a piece of mistletoe, and was taking great glee in zooming around Hogwarts, hovering above various students and snowing on them until they looked up and saw the little plant. He got some extremely mixed reactions, to say the least.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

His very first victims were a little group of first years that he identified after a few minutes of listening to their conversation as being named Rose, David, and John. Rose seemed to be exceptionally flirty with David, maybe he could help resolve a crush here...

He zoomed over, floating above the group and playing tinny Christmas tunes until they spotted him. Rose giggled and made some cheesy comment about tradition, glancing hopefully at David. David looked like he might oblige her, but he was distracted by the other boy, John, who planted a firm kiss on his cheek. Rose looked like she was going to commit a murder, but cheered up immediately when she saw how extremely red David was going. She then commenced to talk in a sort of squealing fashion.

Frobisher zoomed off again, giggling gleefully (if mistletoe could giggle. Well, he could, anyway). That had been unexpected. And so worth it.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

His next targets were two seventh years waiting outside their Defence Against the Dark Arts class and bickering continuously. Ace and Sylvester, he remembered. It would be hard to find two students less likely to kiss under mistletoe than these two.

He waited for a few minutes above their heads, eventually getting impatient and dumping a little snowdrift on their heads. Ace almost screamed, and glared upwards at the innocent little twig of mistletoe before stepping smartly backwards towards Susan, who was hovering nearby, and muttering, "In your dreams, creep..." as Sylvester stood there hopelessly glancing between the mistletoe and his not even friend Ace.

"That's not me!" Sylvester protested, and the two of them were bickering again as Frobisher zoomed off down the corridor.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

His next targets were curled on a sofa in the library, preoccupied with their book and each other and not noticing the little plant flying in tight circles around their heads. They were unusually absorbed. Lethe was usually very observant, especially in recent years.

Fitz, however, did notice the single snowflake that drifted down and landed right on the end of Lethe's nose, though. And he noticed the mistletoe when he looked up to see the source of the snow.

He smiled up at the mistletoe and leaned in to kiss the half-melted snowflake off the tip of Lethe's nose, and they blushed and looked up at the mistletoe.

"Charley said it's rude to kiss people in public," they said slowly (if Frobisher recalled correctly, Charley was Lethe's best friend, and, knowing her, she'd been teaching them what they should and shouldn't do with Fitz when she or others could see), before looking back at Fitz and giving him a kiss, this time on the lips.

Frobisher left the library smiling, or at least whatever the shapeshifting mistletoe equivalent of smiling was. Those two were just too cute.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Who to bother next... Hm... He scanned the courtyard, looking for unsuspecting students- hang on. There was Donna, talking to that moody fifth year, Parker. Donna had caught him in the act of pulling a prank on some first years the other day, and revenge was required.

He hovered directly above her and Parker, and this time neither of them needed to be alerted to his presence. Both human and ghost stepped in opposite directions, Donna exclaiming, "You're not kissing ME, sunshine!" and sounding outraged at the very thought of it.

Parker folded their arms, frowning at her. "Wouldn't DREAM of it. Look at you. You're all...ghost-y."

Donna folded her arms right back at them, looking extremely offended at the comment, and floated off back into the castle, leaving Parker to glare after her until Frobisher conjured a snowdrift right on top of their head, at which point the now very cold and snowy student stalked off back to the nice warm Ravenclaw common room, muttering something decidedly rude about stupid magic castles and their stupid snow.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Frobisher spent the rest of the day annoying various people, causing the start of at least two new relationships, and backing hastily away from two sixth years who were REALLY getting into this kissing thing. He should have known to stay away from those two.

His main and final prank was to be pulled on two of the professors. Professor Hartnell, known for his absolute strictness and lack of fun. And Professor Baker. Who was...well... Mad. To put it simply.

He waited until everyone was in the Great Hall for dinner before moving to drift right above the heads of the two professors. Frobisher let off a loud blue and white firework. The entire hall went silent, looking for the source until someone spotted the mistletoe. A whisper went around the Hall, and several people pointed until the two professors looked above their heads and saw the plant.

Professor Baker's first reaction was to giggle like a five year old and kiss Professor Hartnell on the cheek before he had a chance to complain. The older professor was having none of this, though, and reached up a hand to grab the mistletoe before it could zoom off.

Frobisher struggled a bit, before giving up and reverting to his usual penguin form.  
>"Hello, Professor!"<p>

Another round of whispers and giggles swept through the Great Hall, students laughing and muttering that they KNEW it had been Frobisher all along. Frobisher very much doubted any of them had, but he was slightly too busy being glared at to protest.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

"This is animal abuse! I shall report you!"

Frobisher wasn't exactly happy with his new job. With Donna standing guard over him the whole time, he was forced to turn himself into a silly little elf dressed in bright red and green and wander around the castle greeting students. They found it very amusing, and more than a few of them had made fun of him.

Oh well. He was sure he'd find a way to play his pranks like this somehow. She couldn't make him stay as an elf forever, anyway.


End file.
